Wednesday, August 12, 2009
My son, the Superhero
He hated the IV-line stuck up his arm. He refused to open his mouth to do anything but complain. Till I told him he was a Superhero, his arm a Power-arm with which he could chop up Evil. Then he wanted it to be joined to the bottle of IV-fluids, wanted to see the Power dripping through the tube into his veins.
Though we knew he was going to be sedated through it, we feared how he would react to the MRI experience. But when he was told that Evil was in that room, and that the world was counting on his to be brave, and defeat it, he was willing to give it a try even without the sedation. He got kitted up and very bravely entered the chamber, clutching the hastily drawn sketch of himself as the caped Superhero. We wasn’t able to stay in the MRI machine for more than a minute or two, but how many adults come out of that experience unscathed?
My son, the Superhero!
Even cartoons have their use.